


finding home.

by sniikt



Series: something like home. [2]
Category: John Wick (Movies), The Last of Us
Genre: Found Family, M/M, TLOU AU, and the outbreak never happened, joel and john are married now bitches!!, joel is an assassin, takes place like five-ish years after pt 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-08-20 08:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20225080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniikt/pseuds/sniikt
Summary: in which ellie thinks she has lost a home—but she’s finding one instead.





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> here’s part 2!! some general background: it’s been five or so years since part one. joel and john are happily married and are living together. marlene leads the fireflies, which is a hitman training group kind of like the group john trained with. she’s wanting ellie smuggled to salt lake city where the main training base is, and she’s asking joel to do that.

Bright city lights give way into the sleepy dull ones of the suburb. An occasional streetlight flickers on the sidewalk, the occasional house has a dimly lit porch, or shutters pulled over the window of a softly lit kitchen. 

The rain taps on the windshield of the car incessantly, interrupted only by the occasional slick sounding screech of the windshield wipers.

At least it means that the sound of Marlene’s nervous tapping on the steering wheel is no longer audible.

Marlene had said that they were going to meet an old colleague. That they could trust him. That she had an old friend that said they could trust him.

She seemed like she was trying to convince herself.

Ellie leaned on the car door, pressing her face close enough to the window that she could see her breath begin to fog it up. She gives an annoyed sigh, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of Marlene, but she has no such luck.

Marlene had promised that when the time came, she would take Ellie to Salt Lake City herself.

Now Ellie is fourteen, and being unloaded on some guy she’s never met, that Marlene doesn’t seem to even completely trust. It pisses her off. 

They pull into a driveway. The house is large—the largest Ellie thinks she’s ever seen, anyway. It’s two stories, with lots of windows, and a big garage, and a large front yard, and probably an even bigger backyard, but Ellie can’t see much of that since it’s fenced off.

Marlene takes a deep breath, and grips the steering wheel hard, and then opens her door.

Ellie stays still.

“Ellie,” Marlene says, sounding annoyed—as if she’s the one being asked to travel halfway across the country with a total stranger. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

Ellie uncrosses her arms, and swings her door open as violently as she can manage—slamming it just as violently before following Marlene up the walk, past the mailbox that reads Wick-Miller.

Marlene rings the doorbell three times, tapping her foot against the pavement and folding and unfolding her arms. There’s a long pause. Marlene rings the doorbell again. 

Ellie’s beginning to think that this mysterious old colleague is never going to open the door, and Marlene’s just going to have to take her to Salt Lake City herself. 

And then the door swings open to reveal a tall, gruff looking old man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in flannel sweatpants and a grey pullover sweater. 

“Go the  hell away.”

Marlene manages to step just inside the door to prevent him from slamming it on them, and Ellie swears she hears him growl.

“Joel, please,” says Marlene. “I just need a favor.”

“‘m not doin’ you no favors,” he snaps, voice low and dangerous. He has an accent, Ellie realizes. A southern one, but she can’t pinpoint exactly where he’s from. Not New York, that’s for sure.

Marlene hesitates and then steps away from the door. Joel moves to pull it shut, but freezes as Marlene says: “She said I could count on you.”

Joel throws the door back open, so suddenly that it almost hits Ellie in the face, and she has to jump back to avoid it. 

“Hey! What the hell?” Marlene shushes her and ushers her through the door. “He almost fucking hit me!” Snaps back Ellie, as Marlene glares at her. 

“Ellie,” she hisses.

This is so  unfair . 

Joel leads them down a small entry way, and into a living area. He sits on the couch, scrubbing at his face, and Marlene points Ellie to a fluffy armchair with a throw pillow on it, before sitting in a chair next to her. 

As soon as she sits down, a dog trots into the living room. He stops at Ellie’s feet, sniffing at her ratty Converse curiously and then nuzzling his head into her hand, clearly looking for attention. Ellie ruffles his ears a little, and he makes a content whine, resting his head against her knee.

Following the dog is another man. He’s dressed in light blue pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt—clearly as unprepared for guests as Joel. He inclines his head slightly at Marlene, brushing his hair out of his face. “Marlene,” he says, seeming at least slightly more welcoming than Joel. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Marlene smiles, but it’s tight and forced. “I just need to borrow your husband.” 

Ellie glances from Joel, to the other man, and then back again. They already seem so  different.  How the hell did two people like  that ever get married?

Joel growls at that, and looks like he’s going to say something, but the other man stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Of course,” he says—but there’s a bite to it that wasn’t there before. “I’ll leave you too it. Would you like a drink?”

“Coffee, would be nice, if you have it.” Marlene’s voice is more dangerous now too. Is this what being an adult is? Being weird and passive aggressive while talking about coffee? If that’s all it is, Ellie doesn’t think she wants it. No  thanks .

The man leaves.

Ellie focuses her attention back on the dog at her feet, not exactly wanting to look at Marlene or Joel. 

“Why the hell are you in my house, Marlene?” Joel says, voice sharp and dangerous. 

“I need you to do a job for me.” Marlene’s back to being blunt—straight forward. No more sharp words hidden behind the topic of coffee. 

“Thought I made it clear that I don’t  do  jobs for the Fireflies. I know the type of shit you’re up to and I ain’t about to be part of it.”

“Because you’re so righteous,” Marlene hisses at him.

“Least I know what I am ’n I don’t pretend otherwise.”

There’s a long, dangerous silence, sharp and icy, and even without looking, Ellie can feel them glaring at each other.

“Joel,” Marlene takes a deep breath. “It’s just a smuggling job. Some easy money—and coins if you want them.”

There’s another long silence. Joel scrubs at his face, and sighs into his hands. “What do you need smuggled?”

Marlene glances at Ellie pointedly.

Joel gets the hint.

“No.” He snaps. “I’m not smuggling some fucking ten year old across the country. Do it your  fucking self.”

“Hey man!” Ellie’s had enough of this guy’s shit. She’s not sure who the hell he thinks he is, or why Marlene thought he would be a good choice for the job, but she doesn’t really care anymore. “I’m fourteen—not that it even matters. And You think I want to fucking travel with you? Because I really don’t!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Marlene grabs at Ellie. “Ellie, stop!”

Joel’s glowering at her and Ellie just wants to shove him or punch him or  something. “Well it’s the truth!” 

Marlene stands between them and glares at Ellie. She sighs. Pinches the bridge of her nose. “Listen, why don’t you go help John in the kitchen. Let me and Joel talk.”

She doesn’t want to help John. But she doesn’t want to stay here with Joel or listen to Marlene discuss her with him like she’s not even in the room.

“Fine,” she snaps, and rips her arm out of Marlene’s grasp before stalking off in the direction Joel’s husband went.

* * *

He doesn’t seem surprised to see her. He just offers her a smile and continues fiddling with the coffee maker. “I’m John,” he offers to her. 

A second dog rises from John’s feet to come investigate Ellie, and Ellie leans down to pet it. “That’s Daisy,” John says, and he’s moved to lean his back against the counter and watch Ellie pet his dog. “There’s some treats in the pantry behind you if you want to give her one.”

Ellie heasitates, but Daisy’s ears have visibly perked up at the mention of treats, and she’s nosing at Ellie’s hands curiously.

Ellie opens the cupboard and rolls up onto her tiptoes to grab the box off the third shelf. Daisy waits for her patiently, head tilted, and the dog Ellie had met in the living room trots in and sits, waiting for his. She offers them both one and then puts the box away.

“I’m Ellie,” Ellie says finally. 

“Nice to meet you, Ellie.” Says John.

There’s a brief silence as she ruffles the dog’s ears. 

“What’s the other one’s name?” She asks him, finally, standing to watch him finish putting the coffee on.

“It’s just Dog.”

“You named your dog ‘Dog’?”

“Yep.”

“That’s dumb,” Ellie tells him, and she thinks she hears him chuckle.

“You have a better name?”

“I dunno. I always wanted a dog. I think I would have named him Sumo or something.” She slides into a bar stool at the counter, leaning on it and eyeing John.

He’s smiling at her softly, leaning against the counter. “Sumo would be a good name,” he tells her.

Suddenly feeling very self conscious, Ellie pulls at her shirt sleeves and stares down at the counter. “I dunno. I hadn’t thought about it that much.” 

She’s aware of John looking at her, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. He sighs. “What do you want to drink, Ellie?”

“What?”

“You can have coffee if you want but—“

“No thanks,” Ellie cuts in, nose scrunching up. She had tried Marlene’s coffee once. It hadn’t been her thing.

“Soda then? Or maybe some hot chocolate?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure? I don’t like coffee either, so I’m making hot chocolate either way.”

Ellie eyes him, sure that he’s lying, but he looks more sincere than anyone she’s ever met.

“Okay then,” she relents, and he smiles at her.

* * *

Joel must agree to take her, because when Ellie emerges from the kitchen with John, he’s changed out of his sweats and into a ratty green flannel and jeans. He’s packing a backpack with a few guns and some ammo.

He barely glances at her—but his eyes linger on John and he seems to soften a little. He takes the coffee from him with a murmured thanks, and then tucks a pistol in his waistband. 

“You came to an agreement, then?” says John, eyes flinty as he glances toward Marlene. 

Marlene ignores the question and pulls Ellie close to her. “We have to go get Ellie’s things. We’ll meet you outside.”

Marlene leads Ellie outside and opens the car door so Ellie can grab her backpack.

The backpack that has her entire life in it.

“Marlene,” she says, imploringly. 

“Ellie,” Marlene replies, looking at her in a way that clearly implies that she’s tired of arguing.

Ellie continues anyway. “I don’t  want  to go with Joel.”

Marlene sighs loudly, but Ellie remains undeterred. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t just go with you! Or one of the other fireflies! Why does it have to be  him ?”

Marlene scrubs her face and sighs again. “I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t  need  to understand. I just need you to understand that  I need Joel to do this. And I expect you to listen to him and do everything he says.”

Ellie’s prepared to protest, but the door to the house opens, the light filtering out into the yard. John gives Joel a quick goodbye kiss, and she can hear him gently tell Joel to be safe, and to call him later.

Joel steps off the porch and nods toward Ellie. “C’mon,” he says, and starts toward the old pickup truck parked in front of the garage. 

Ellie sighs and looks pleadingly at Marlene one more time.

Marlene pretends not to notice. “Be good,” she tells Ellie.

Ellie rolls her eyes, huffs, and marches across the yard to the truck, resigned to her fate.


	2. two.

Ellie gets the distinct impression that Joel is sulking. Actually sulking. He grips the steering wheel tightly, refusing to take his eyes off the road to look at her, and she swears he grumbles occasionally. 

Ellie’s sitting in the back seat—her own small act of rebellion to show Joel just how not happy about this whole arrangement she is. 

She glances over him, eyes finally catching on his broken watch. She briefly wonders if that’s just the type of person Joel is—hanging on to broken things. Like his old, falling apart truck, or his jeans with holes at the knees and frayed hems, or a ratty flannel that had seen one too many uses. 

“Your watch is broken,” she tells him.

He makes some sort of noise to indicate that he heard her, but makes no effort to answer her unspoken question.

So Ellie asks it. “Why?”

Silence.

She huffs, and throws herself back in her seat a little, wrinkling her nose at the smell of dust on the cushions. 

“Where are we going?” She asks finally. 

“Salt Lake.” Snaps Joel, lowly. 

Ellie rolls her eyes. He’s acting like she’s going to be the difficult one and then pulls shit like this? “Okay, well I know  _that_, smartass. But where are we stopping?”

“We’re not.” 

“It’s like a million day drive! And you’re just gonna drive it all without stopping?”

“Yes.”

Ellie crosses her arms across her chest and glares at the back of his head as if he can see her. “Well, I’m starving. And tired. We have to stop  somewhere.”

Joel says nothing.

* * *

Ellie wakes to a hand on her shoulder. Joel is looking at her with a glimmer of something that Ellie doesn’t have a name for.

“Let’s go,” he tells her.

Ellie glances out the window. They’re in a mostly empty motel parking lot, sparsely lit, with a few large puddles marking the now finished rainstorm.

“Where are we?” She asks as she pulls her backpack over her shoulder and opens the truck door to jump out into a puddle. 

“Philadelphia,” Joel answers, as he pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure she’s following before walking toward the office.

The front office is warm, and a lamp on the corner of the front desk washes the room in soft light. Joel digs a wad of cash out of his pocket and hands it to Ellie.

“Go get something from the vending machine while I check us in.”

Ellie’s stomach growls eagerly, and she snatches the cash from him and jogs down a poorly lit hallway to the vending machines. She unwrinkles the bills and buys as much as she can carry before returning back to Joel, who is just getting a key from the lady at the desk. 

He eyes her armful of snacks but says nothing, instead leading her back outside and down the rows of rooms until they reach their door.

* * *

Ellie munches on her dinner of Cheez-It’s and off brand chocolate cupcakes while Joel goes through his bag and obsessively checks to make sure all the doors and windows are shut and locked.

Ellie watches him from her cross legged position on one of the beds and pretends not to notice that he tucks a gun under his pillow when he thinks she’s not looking.

Ellie wonders if he really thinks he’ll need it.

Eventually, Joel stops pacing and turns off all the lights, with a somewhat growled “go to sleep” when Ellie complains about it. 

And when he calls someone, once he thinks she’s asleep, with a soft “hey darlin’”, his voice melting, and his smile apparent, even without seeing him, Ellie doesn’t bother him about it.

* * *

They stop at a gas station the next morning, and Joel tells her she can get one snack for the road and a drink. Ellie swings her backpack over her shoulder and takes off into the store, perusing the aisles, looking for an item that stands out.

The bell on the door rings. Ellie bounces up on her heels to look, expecting to see Joel, but instead seeing a tall, young-ish looking man staring at her. 

She breaks eye contact and snatches a bag of trail mix before heading off to the drink section.

The bell rings twice more. The man she saw before filters into her aisle. Another man follows behind him.

Feeling uneasy, Ellie moves to leave the aisle, just as Joel appears at the other end, opposite the men. He eyes them, and holds his hand out to Ellie. “Ellie, c’mon, it’s time to go.” He says, his voice urgent, not taking his eyes off the men.

Ellie takes his hand, and Joel all but drags her out of the store, an iron grip on her arm.

“Hey, hey!” She snaps, wriggling a little and attempting to drag her feet. “What the hell? Joel!” 

He lets go of her arm and points to the truck. “Get in. Let’s go.” 

“Why?” She plants her feet, angrily, her animosity toward Joel rising up in her throat again. 

“Ellie, now is not the time.” Joel’s glare is hard, but he’s looking past her.

“Yeah, why Joel? You in some sort of hurry?” Ellie whirls. The men from the store are standing opposite them, one of them—the one speaking, leans against the gas pump casually. Four more stand behind him, looking intimidating. 

“‘m just passing through,” Joel says, moving forward cautiously until he’s in front of Ellie. 

The man scoffs. “Hm. You guys remember what happened the last time Joel was ‘just passing through’?” 

The men behind him take a few steps forward. Joel snarls a little, looking like a cornered wolf. “Ellie,” he says. “Get in the truck. We’re leavin’ this place.”

“No,” the man says, voice low, and it reminds Ellie of a snake about to strike. “I don’t think you will be.”

Chaos explodes across the gas station parking lot. Joel throws Ellie low, and snatches the gun from his waistband. The other men pull their guns and open fire. Ellie crawls under the truck, crouching behind the tire, peering just around the corner to see the action. 

Joel’s a good shot. He kills two men immediately with well placed headshots before one finally shoots him, the bullet nicking his arm. A man lunges at Joel with a knife and he dodges narrowly, shoving him out of the way and into a concrete pillar nearby. He dives behind the truck next to Ellie, panting. 

“You okay?” He asks, voice low and breathless.

“Holy  shit , Joel,” Ellie says, feeling like her brain was left behind before the shooting began.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, an edge in his voice, urgent as he grabs her arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but—“

“We need to go,” Joel cuts her off. “Get ready to run.”

He pops over the truck and fires off a few more shots, before grabbing Ellie.

* * *

They run until Ellie can’t anymore. They finally stop in an alley, and Ellie sinks to the ground, panting.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” says Joel, but she can tell that he’s just as breathless. 

“What now?” Ellie says, between huffs of breath. “We left the truck behind! We can’t walk the whole way!”

“‘m figurin’ it out.” Joel huffs back, somewhat harshly, as if he didn’t appreciate Ellie spelling out the situation again for him.

Ellie didn’t particularly appreciate being left out of the loop either. 

A long pause. 

“I know a guy in the city. He could get us a truck.”

* * *

They end up at an abandoned looking garage.

“Doesn’t look like your friend’s here,” Ellie says.

“He’s here.” Joel says. “Just gets paranoid about visitors.” He looks at Ellie pointedly. “Lemme do the talking.”

Joel pounds on the door a few times before it swings open rather violently to reveal a man with a slightly receding hairline and a beer belly.

Ellie decides that he’s a let down.

“This is your friend?” She hisses at Joel.

He glares at her.

“Hey Bill,” Joel says. 

* * *

Ellie doesn’t like Bill, and he doesn’t seem to like them much either. In fact, it becomes very apparent that Bill is John’s friend, not Joel’s, and he has no problem reminding Joel of that. While they argue, Ellie flips through the stacks of old magazines and boxes of old records.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bill suddenly snaps, turning on Ellie. “Don’t touch my shit!”

“I was just fixing your stupid piles!” Ellie defends, which wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t a lie either. 

“You better be fucking watching her, Joel,” Bill says, voice accusatory.

Joel glances over to her, to which she gives an innocent look. “Like a hawk,” he says, somewhat apathetically, and then looks away again.

Just to spite Bill, Ellie shoves as much shit in her backpack as she can.

* * *

Joel convinces Bill to get them a truck. Or more accurately, Bill’s partner, Frank, comes home and convinces Bill that making a few calls about a truck in exchange for the gold coins that Marlene always trades around with was worth it.

Bill stomps off to make some calls. Frank offers them a smile and then follows behind. 

“Some friend,” Ellie tells Joel. “How’d you meet him?”

“He’s a good guy,” says Joel, which doesn’t really answer Ellie’s question.

There’s a pause, as Ellie scuffs her shoes against the concrete floor.

“Um,” Joel clear his throat. Looks at the ceiling. Then at her. “You did good. Back there. Just thought you should know that.”

It takes a moment for Ellie to realize that he means the incident at the gas station. “Oh. Thanks,” she says. “Who were those guys anyway?”

Joel pauses, and she gets the distinct feeling that he’s trying to figure out how much he wants to tell her. “I been a lot of places. Made a lot of enemies.”

A long silence means that’s all Joel’s going to offer, and before Ellie can press anymore, Bill returns.

* * *

The truck Bill gives them is every bit as shitty as Joel’s, if not shittier. But Joel thanks him anyway and gives him a few gold coins before they go on their way.

Ellie reclines in the back seat and flips through the magazines she got from Bill. Among them is a comic book called Savage Starlight that looks interesting, and she spends the next hour enthralled in a story about a scientist in space, trying to save mankind from a race called the Travellers.

When she gets to the taunting ‘To Be Continued’ she lets out a huffed “oh man”.

“Hey,” snaps Joel, obviously a little startled. “Thought you were sleepin’.”

She sits upright and throws the comic into the middle console beside him. “Okay, I know it doesn't look like it, but this here is not a bad read. Only one problem. Right there. ‘To be continued’!” She flips to the last page and points at the offending words.

Joel spares a glance from the road to look, and then eyes her in the rear view mirror. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Back at Bill’s,” she says, figuring he won’t mind, since he didn’t seem to bothered when she was looking through his shit.

He sighs. 

“Hey!” She defends. “All that stuff was just  sitting there!”

She can see Joel roll his eyes, but she swears he looks amused. Almost smiling. The closest she’s ever seen, anyway. “What else did you get?”

“Funny you ask,” she says, flipping through the items before pulling out a cassette tape. “This make you all nostalgic?”

Joel scoffs, looking a little indignant. “That’s actually  before  my time.” He takes it from her though and slides it in the truck’s cassette player. When old, bluesy country music starts playing, they both sigh.

“Radio it is,” Ellie remarks, and goes back to flipping through her stolen items. She pulls out the porno magazine she had snatched without meaning to.

“Now this—“ she says cheekily, smirking at Joel in the rear view mirror. “Bet your friend will be missing this tonight. I mean—it’s light on the reading, but it’s got some interesting photos.”

She flips to a centerfold, turning it and pretending to examine it.

“Hey, Ellie, that ain’t for kids,” Joel says, shifting up in his seat and glancing over his shoulder at her quickly.

Ellie tried to hide her smile and turns the page. “Woah! How—“ She pauses to smother a laugh. “How the hell does he even walk around with that thing!”

“Get rid of that! Just—“ Joel reaches behind him to snatch it from her, but she dodges and holds it out of reach.

“Now hold  _on_,  I wanna see what all the fuss is about! Why are these pages all stuck together?”

She swears Joel actually goes red, and stammers a bit, struggling to find an answer to her question.

“Relax,” she tells him, shutting the magazine and rolling down the window. “I’m just fucking with you. Bye, bye dude!” She throws the magazine out the window and zips up her backpack before crawling over the seat to ride shotgun beside Joel. 

She puts her feet up on the dash, testing Joel, but he only throws her a glance. She turns up the dial to the music a little. 

“You know, this isn’t actually that bad.” She says, and she finds that she doesn’t just mean the music. Maybe Joel isn’t entirely awful.

And maybe Joel is thinking something similar, because he looks a little soft as he says “Try and get some sleep, okay?”

She lets out a huff of air. “Please. I’m not even tired.”

* * *

When Joel glances over at Ellie again, she’s asleep.

He tries not to let himself smile at her, but feels his heart tug gently, like it might have done nearly twenty years ago, with Sarah asleep in his front seat.

He grips the steering wheel and looks out at the empty road—the grass looking greener in the rain.

It’s been a long time since he felt like this. 

A long time since he let himself feel like this.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know my timeline is a little screwy, but basically the current time is somewhere around 2035. so yes, i know that means john wick takes place way in the future in comparison to the movies, but i wanted joel to a. still be born somewhere around the late 80s, early 90s, and b. raise sarah during the 2000s, which means johns timeline has to be the one that changed.


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam and henry appear in this chapter and there’s a brief suicide scene at the very end. please be careful and mindful of your mental health, and skip over this chapter if it will be potentially triggering.

When Ellie wakes, Joel is parking the truck in front of a hotel. This one’s significantly nicer than the motel they stayed at last—larger, with nice trimmings on the outside. 

Ellie yawns loudly, and Joel glances over at her. 

She thinks she might see him smile, but he looks away from her too quickly to tell.

“Where are we?” She asks him, leaning forward, squinting her eyes as she looks out into the bright city lights.

“Detroit,” says Joel. “Thought we’d stop for the night.”

Ellie glances toward the dim car clock which reads 1:13 in a neon green.

She’s not really that tired anymore, but she is absolutely starving. 

Joel clambers out of the truck, looking a little stiff, which Ellie snorts at quietly as she swings her backpack over her shoulder.

“C’mon old man,” she teases, slamming the door behind her and bouncing on her heels so she can see Joel over the truck’s cab. “You can’t be  that  sore .”

Joel grumbles a little and rolls his eyes as he swings his own bag on his shoulders. 

“How old are you anyway?” Asks Ellie, as he takes off in front of her, headed toward the hotel. 

“None of your business,” says Joel, but he doesn’t sound angry, so Ellie continues.

“I’m fourteen.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Please? It’s only fair that I know how old you are.” 

There’s a long pause with a little bit of grumbling before he says “‘m forty-eight.”

Ellie snorts her laughter. “Holy shit—that  is old !”

Joel just sighs.

“No wonder you’re so fuckin’ grumpy all the time. If I’d been alive that long I’d be pretty grumpy too.”

Joel sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose and then scrubbing his face. “Stick to me like glue in there, you understand?”

* * *

The hotel is the nicest Ellie’s ever been in, but she doesn’t even get to enjoy it. Every time she stops to look at things Joel pesters her about keeping up. He seems more on edge than usual.

He pays the man at the front desk with some golden coins before ushering Ellie into an elevator and up to their room. 

Ellie sits in the middle of a huge bed and orders room service while he showers. 

She could get used to living like this, she thinks, munching on a fancy pan pizza and hand cut fries while lounging on soft blankets. 

* * *

Joel calls John again late that night, after he’s turned out all the lights. He gives a soft “hey baby,” and then chuckles into the phone after a short pause.

“Met some of Vivaldi’s fuckin’ goons in Philly,” he tells the phone. “Shot at us a few times before we got out of there. Had to leave my damn truck behind and then convince fuckin’ Bill to help us.”

He sounds particularly grumpy about that, Ellie thinks. More put out that his truck was left behind than almost dying.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. We’re good. She’s fine. Just can’t believe I left that truck behind. Had it since high school.”

There’s a longer pause, as Joel must listen to something about John and his day. 

“Fuck, I miss you.” Says Joel finally, his voice melting  more —as if that were possible—and it makes Ellie want to gag. “Just wish I was home. Miss kissin’ you.”

Ellie does gag at that.  “Gross!” 

Joel throws a pillow at her and she gives a muffled squeak. “Go to sleep,” he snaps at her.

“How the hell am I supposed to sleep when you’re over there being so  gross ?”

“Ellie,” Joel says lowly. “Go to  sleep.”

“‘m not tired!”

* * *

The next morning they both go to breakfast downstairs.

Joel’s still decidedly grumpy, but Ellie can’t tell if it’s because of his abruptly ended conversation with John last night, or if it’s because he hasn’t had his first cup of coffee yet.

Ellie gets scrambled eggs and pancakes, but Joel just gets two pieces of toast, and a coffee order that sounds very complex.

“Does every coffee order sound like that?” She asks him as she takes a bite of egg.

Joel glares.

“It just sounds very complicated.” She says, shrugging her shoulders.

Joel scrubs at his face with a tired sigh. “It’s just coffee.”

Ellie doesn’t believe him, but decides to let this one go.

“So,” she says. “How old is John?”

“What?” He asks, taking his face out of his hands.

“How old is John? You’re forty-eight so like, is he older or—“

“He’s forty-five.”

“Hmm,” Ellie hums. “So younger.”

“It’s three years.”

“Still. Younger. How’d you meet him?”

Joel eyes her as if he thinks she’s playing some game. “On a job.”

Ellie takes a bite of her pancake. “What do you do?”

There’s a very long pause this time as Joel eyes her and looks her over, as if trying to figure something out. “I’m an assassin,” he says finally, still looking her over as if expecting a punchline or something.

Ellie could choke on her orange juice. “You kill people ?”

“What did you think I did?” 

“I don’t know? Not kill people?”

Joel sighs heavily. “How much do you even know about the Fireflies?” 

“Just that they’re some super secret organization my mom wanted me to join. And that Marlene—I don’t know—basically runs it or something.” She’d asked Marlene questions before, but Marlene had always been tight-lipped. But the letter from her mom said she needed to stay with the Fireflies. That the Fireflies were safe. So that was something, at least.

Joel’s even more quiet for the rest of breakfast.

* * *

Joel’s checking over the truck when they’re approached by a young man with a boy about Ellie’s age trailing behind him.

“Heard you’re looking for the Fireflies,” the man says. 

Joel looks over him warily. “Why do you care?”

“I’m Henry,” the man says, taking a step forward and extending his hand to Joel.

Joel doesn’t take it.

After an awkward moment, Henry pulls his hand back and gestures toward the younger boy. “This is Sam—my brother. We’re looking for the Fireflies too. We thought maybe we could hitch a ride with you?”

Joel looks from Henry, to Sam, and then back to Henry again. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly.

“Listen,” Henry says, his voice taking on a pleading tone. “We have no other way there, and I have to get him there.”

Ellie glances toward Sam, who is fiddling with his backpack strap nervously and staring at the ground where he’s scuffing his shoe against the pavement. 

Joel’s looking over them both, as if he’s scanning them for something. Ellie can see him soften a little. “You can hitch a ride with us to Chicago, but you’re on your own from there. And if you pull any shit ? The Fireflies won’t even be able to find the pieces of your fuckin’ body.”

Despite Joel’s threat, Henry looks relieved and gives an almost breathless thank you before pushing Sam toward the truck.

* * *

The first hour of their ride is spent in silence. Joel looks some mixture of tired and sad and angry as he clenches and unclenches the steering wheel, occasionally playing with his watch.

Ellie’s been banished to the back seat once again, along with Sam, who is completely silent. He has his forehead pressed to the window, staring out at the scenery. Ellie glances over at him occasionally, hoping to catch his eye, with no luck.

Meanwhile, Henry does something similar in the front seat with Joel. Ellie can see him looking over frequently, as if he wants Joel to say or do something—anything. 

Ellie looks over at Sam one more time before shifting so she’s sitting in the middle seat next to him. That gets his attention. He glances toward her, looking her over.

She offers him a smile.

He doesn’t smile back.

“Where are you from?” She asks.

He tells her some small town in Michigan that she’s never heard of as he stares at his hands.

“That’s cool,” Ellie says. “I’ve heard it’s nice there.”

An awkward pause.

“Why’re you joining the Fireflies?” She asks finally.

“My parents died.” Sam says it so bluntly, so matter of fact that it takes Ellie completely by surprise. She stares at him as he fiddles with the backpack strap and avoids looking at her.

“Oh, shit, uh—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“It’s okay,” he says, still not looking at her.

“Uh hey,” she says, after a pause, pulling her backpack into her lap. “You wanna hear a joke?”

For the first time, Sam looks directly at her. Ellie pulls out her joke book, and with some amount of flare, picks a random page and the closes her eyes and points to a random joke.

“You wanna hear a joke about pizza? Never mind, it was too cheesy.” 

Sam laughs a little, and she looks up to catch Joel looking in the rear view mirror at her.

“What is that?” he says.

“A joke book! No Pun Intended, Volume Two, by Will Livingston.”

Joel just sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.

She points to another random joke. “What did the green grape say to the purple grape?” 

“What?” Sam says, and it sounds long suffering, but he’s smiling for the first time.

“Breathe, you idiot!”

They both laugh and Sam gives a wheezing “that’s so stupid”.

“Yeah, I know,” Ellie says. She flips the book closed and puts it away.

“I have a joke for you,” Sam says.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Why can’t your nose be 12 inches long?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“Because then it would be a foot!”

Ellie laughs and rolls her eyes. “That’s so dumb. I love it.”

* * *

They spend the rest of the ride talking, and eventually Joel and Henry find a common interest in motorcycles. Joel tells Henry about the motorcycle he has back at home, and the one John has, and some trip they took together on them a few years ago. Ellie doesn’t understand a word of it, but Joel is gradually looking happier, and Henry is laughing.

They stop at a gas station in Chicago. Joel gives Ellie some money and tells her to go buy everyone some lunch. 

As they walk in, Sam wrinkles his nose and gives a hushed “eww, gas station lunch”, which Ellie laughs at. 

Ellie asks the lady at the counter for four hot dogs, and as she gets them ready, Ellie glances behind her toward Sam, who is looking at a little display with toy robots. He picks one up and turns it around in his hands. She’s about to offer to buy it for him—Joel gave them more than enough cash—when Henry walks in.

“Hey,” he snaps at Sam. “Put that back.”

Sam does.

Ellie slips it in her backpack when no one’s looking.

* * *

They end up stopping on the side of the road just outside the city to eat their lunches. There’s just fields along this part of the road, and it’s pretty boring to look at, but they all eat outside anyway, in the old, rusted bed of the truck.

Joel hasn’t kicked Sam and Henry out yet, even though they’re out of Chicago now.

When they’re finished with lunch, Henry and Joel go up to the front of the truck to talk about the best route to Salt Lake City. Ellie and Sam are left sitting on the tailgate, feet hanging over the edge and swinging softly.

Ellie pulls the robot out of her backpack and slides it to him. “Here,” she says. “You shouldn’t have to give up stuff you like just to join the Fireflies.”

Sam scoffs, and turns the robot around and around in his hands.

There’s a pause.

“How is it that you’re not scared?” Sam asks.

“Scared of what?”

“Becoming a Firefly.”

Ellie sighs, zips up her backpack. Feels her own anxiety about the future bubble up. “Who says I’m not?”

Being a Firefly had taken everything from her. She had left her old home. Riley had left her months ago to join. She had maybe one change of clothes and her joke book in her backpack—the rest had been left behind. 

Yeah. She was scared. 

“Please,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t seem afraid! Name one other thing you’re afraid of.”

“Scorpions are pretty creepy.”

Sam scoffs.

“Being by myself.” Ellie pauses, feels that nagging worry in the corner of her mind again. “I’m scared of ending up alone.”

That’s when three black SUVs pull up. The windows are tinted, so Ellie can’t see inside, but she’s sure they’re all filled with men. 

One of the drivers steps out.

“I heard Joel Miller was back in town!” He says, with a false cheeriness that sets Ellie on edge. “And I just had to see for myself.”

Joel’s a big guy, but this man dwarfs him. He’s only a few inches taller, but he’s  huge.  He looked like one of those body builders you see on TV.

Joel’s obviously upset. “Troy,” he says, his voice dark, brow furrowed. 

“I mean, I thought, that can’t  possibly  be Joel Miller, because if I remember right, I told Joel Miller to get the hell out of Chicago and never come back.” The man—Troy, loses his cheery tone until he’s glaring. “So imagine my surprise when I find that it is Joel Miller, back in Chicago like he didn’t fuckin’ betray me and leave me for dead fifteen years ago.”

Joel says nothing. He’s glaring at Troy, hand on his waist, near the gun hidden there.

“Do you remember what I said I’d do if I ever saw your fuckin’ worthless face again?” Troy asks, pulling his own gun and turning it around in his hands, as if considering something.

“We’re leavin’,” Joel says, but Ellie can tell he’s gearing up for a fight—that he doesn’t think leaving here is any sort of option. 

Troy laughs. Nods.

And then shoots.

Men bail out of all the doors of the cars, their own guns pulled. Ellie dives down behind the walls of the truck bed with Sam before she can see if Joel’s even alright.

Peering up over the edge, she can see that both Joel and Henry have taken cover and have their own guns pulled. A man runs at where Joel’s hiding. Joel slams the butt of his gun into the man’s head and then wraps his arm around his neck, using him as a shield to put bullets through a few men’s heads before putting one through the neck of the man he’s holding and dodging back into cover.

He doesn’t see the man behind him. “Joel, behind you!” She shouts, and then jumps over the side of the truck and stabs the man through the neck with her switchblade. 

Joel spares her a glance, but doesn’t have time for much else, as he jumps out of cover to elbow a guy in the face and then shoot him at point blank. 

Henry and Joel make fairly quick work of all the men. Joel shoots Troy, and Ellie tried to ignore how satisfied he looks afterward.

Then they hear crying from the truck bed.

Henry races over first, with Ellie and Joel only slightly behind.

Sam’s curled in on himself in the back of the truck, gasping and sobbing weakly. Henry coaxes him out of the ball he’s made, and Ellie can clearly see three bullet wounds in his chest.

He’s dying. 

Henry holds him, rocks him, begging him to hold on, while both Ellie and Joel stand there dumbly.

The gasping fades.

Henry reaches for his gun. 

“Henry,” Joel says, reaching forward, pushing past Ellie, as if he’s suddenly realized something Ellie hasn’t. 

Henry’s muttering something that sounds like “your fault, your fault, your fault,” over and over and over.

He puts the gun to his own head.

“Henry,” Joel says, softly. “Gimme the gun.”

There’s a gunshot.

And then silence.


	4. four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, this chapter is very heavy. there is mention of suicide, mention of self harm, and mention of a past suicide attempt. please keep this in mind and skip this chapter if it will be potentially triggering

They stop for the night earlier than normal.

All of Joel hurts. His back and neck and shoulders burn. His head aches. 

He rubs his watch until it breaks the skin on his wrist.

The clock only reads 8:27 when they pull into a shitty motel parking lot. Ellie raises her head from where she’s sat the entire ride—uncharacteristically quiet, head resting on the seatbelt, eyes staring out the window at nothing. She still doesn’t say anything though, just throws her backpack over her shoulder and climbs out of the truck.

Joel follows.

* * *

Once they’re in their room, Joel leaves Ellie to her own devices and wanders outside, stopping at the truck and leaning against the front of it.

He turns his phone over and over in his hands.

Turns it on.

The first thing that awaits him is his wallpaper. It’s a picture of him and John—John’s smiling as Joel buries his face into the crook of John’s neck.

He sighs.

Puts the phone away.

Rubs at his watch strap.

He wants to hear John’s voice so  fucking bad. Wants to hear him say that it’s going to be okay. Selfishly wants him to say that it’s not Joel’s fault.

It  is his fault.

He closes his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t call John. Doesn’t want to worry him, doesn’t deserve the small amount of comfort John would bring him.

But he knows John will worry if he doesn’t call. He also knows that John deserves to know that he’ll be home soon. That he’s done—his mind is made up.

He pulls his phone back out. Types out an “are you up?” and then presses send.

John calls almost immediately.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, and then almost cringes. His voice sounds hoarse and tired and hollow even to himself.

“Is everything alright?” John asks, voice so soft and gentle that it tugs on Joel’s heart and he could almost cry.

“I’m—“ Joel pauses. “I’ll be home soon. ‘m almost done.”

“You’re in Salt Lake?” Asks John, but his tone of voice clearly implies that he knows they’re not.

“It’s...complicated.” Joel says finally. “‘m droppin’ Ellie off to Vera in Saint Louis. Tellin’ her she can take all the damn payment.”

“Joel—“ John says softly, and Joel can tell he’s going to try to reason with him.

So Joel keeps talking before he loses his nerve. “She’ll get her there in one piece. It’s safer that way. I’ll leave soon as I drop her off.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone. Joel shifts the watch on his wrist. Rubs his thumb over the broken glass. Feels anxiety and bad memories bubble up worse than they have in years.

“What happened?” John asks.

Joel thinks it would be easier if John had sounded even the slightest bit accusatory. If he had argued with him about taking Ellie. If he had told him he was being selfish.

Instead his voice is just gentle. Understanding. Concerned.

So full of love that it makes Joel’s heart ache.

How he tricked John into loving him he’ll never know.

Joel huffs, trying to get over the knot in his stomach to tell John some version of what happened. Plays with the silver wedding band on his finger.

“I—“ Joel clears his throat, tries to swallow back the lump there. He gives a huffy nervous laugh. “‘s so fucking  stupid .  I was so fucking stupid.”

John says nothing—just waits for Joel to continue.

“Met this guy in Detroit. He wanted—thought he wanted to find the Fireflies. I was gonna tell him no.  Shoulda  told him no. But—he had a kid. His brother. He was just a kid himself and he looked so  scared.  I couldn’t tell him no. Told him I’d take him to Chicago.”

Joel takes a shaky breath. Slides his wedding ring up his finger a bit and rotates it back and forth.

“I got the kid shot in Chicago,” he says. Softly. Feels nausea and anxiety and an image of Sarah dying in his arms bubble up all at once. “Died in his brother’s arms. And then he pulled his gun and shot himself.”

“Joel,” John says so softly. With some sort of horror in his own voice. “Joel, that wasn’t your fault.”

Joel huffs, gives another nervous laugh. “I can’t—I mean—how many times have I almost gotten Ellie killed, John? How many more times can we get shot at before I do get her killed? I just—fuck, John—“

“You’ve kept her safe so far. Everything’s going to be alright, Joel. You couldn’t control any of that.”

Joel just shakes his head, as if John can see him. “I just—I just  can’t John. I can’t do it. I can’t do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay,” John says finally, and there’s no animosity there, either. Just pure understanding that Joel doesn’t deserve. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

Joel nods, a bone deep numbness washing over him.

A pause.

“I love you,” John says. In that sincere honest voice he used the first time Joel met him. The one he used the first time he told him those three words. The one he used every time he said them after that.

It tugs at Joels heart. 

“Call me if you need anything,” John adds, and there’s an unspoken ‘call me if things get too hard’ there. A ‘call me if you need to talk’.

Because John knew. Had seen the scars in uniform lines just above his elbow. And he’d just accepted it without any judgement. Without any fear of the fucked up mess Joel was or had been. 

Joel didn’t know how he did that. But he loved him for it. 

“I love you too,” Joel breathes into the phone.

He means it more than anything he’s ever said.

* * *

That night, Joel dreams of a dying daughter he couldn’t save, and the cold press of a gun to his head.

* * *

Ellie doesn’t sleep. The few times she tries she has nightmares about Sam and Henry. The one where they’re both zombies chasing her and Henry just keeps repeating “your fault, your fault, your fault” are the worst, she thinks.

Instead she lies awake long after Joel comes to bed, and listens to him toss and turn, occasionally shooting awake with panted breaths.

Eventually, when she thinks Joel is asleep, she crawls out of her bed, and grabs Joel’s phone from the nightstand next to him. She locks herself in the bathroom. Paces the floor a few times.

Then she unlocks the phone.

A cheesy picture of John and Joel is the first thing she sees. She would normally gag, and vow to make fun of Joel later, but Joel looks so happy in the picture. He’s smiling, and he looks at peace.

Ellie’s sure that he had never looked like that around her. 

She shakes her head and punches in a number she had committed to memory close to six months ago.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

Ellie bounces her foot, wills Riley to pick up. 

She doesn’t. There’s the beep of a voicemail. Ellie huffs and ends the call.

Riley hadn’t answered the phone in weeks. Ellie would be worried—but Riley’s with the Fireflies. She couldn’t be safer. Instead, she’s just annoyed. Annoyed that Riley’s suddenly avoiding her calls. Especially now, when Ellie’s so close to being able to see her.

She locks the phone and returns it to Joel’s nightstand. 

If he notices the new number in his recent calls he doesn’t ask about it.

* * *

They’re both ready to go before first light. Ellie dozes in the truck as Joel pulls into some fast food place and orders a coffee for himself and a breakfast sandwich for Ellie.

Ellie picks at it, not feeling like eating, but Joel pesters her about finishing it enough that she does.

Joel tells her they’re going to Saint Louis. 

Ellie nods, and stares out at dreary cities for the rest of the ride.

* * *

They stop at a nice house in Saint Louis. Ellie glances over the house and then back at Joel.

“What are we doing here?” she asks.

Joel pauses. Ellie doesn’t think he’s going to answer. Then he says “We’re just stopping to see a friend.”

When they knock on the door, a man in a suit answers, looking over Joel before glancing to Ellie. Joel tells him that they’re there to see a woman named Vera.

The man leads them into a nice study, with a desk, several armchairs, and lots of bookcases. Ellie looks over the books as Joel sits in one of the armchairs and nervously twists his wedding band.

* * *

Ellie likes Vera. She finds out that Joel had met Vera right after he had started working, and they had worked together for a long time before they went their separate ways. She teases Joel a little and occasionally winks at Ellie.

Joel tells her that they should talk, which means Ellie is sent with the man in the suit (who introduces himself as Athos) to the kitchen for lunch.

Ellie doesn’t eat, instead running over Joel’s reasons for meeting with Vera in her head. Wondering why he needed to talk to her in private.

Eventually she lands on the obvious.

Joel’s not taking her any farther.

He’s going to make Vera take her. 

Ellie shoves her plate away from her, biting her lip harshly to keep the tears she feels welling up at bay.

Why should she care? It’s not like she likes Joel anyway. Getting to the Fireflies is all that matters. All that should matter.

But she  does  care.

* * *

Joel eventually joins her in the kitchen. He clears his throat softly and then sits in the chair next to her. “Ellie,” he says. “We need to talk.”

Ellie says nothing. 

“Vera’s taking you the rest of the way.” Joel says finally, once he’s sure he’s not getting a response. 

“And if I say no?” Ellie says, anger bubbling up within her. She wants to shove him or yell at him or  something .

Joel sighs deeply and scrubs at his face. “What do you want from me, Ellie?”

“Just admit you wanted to get rid of me the whole time!” Ellie says, whirling on him. She’s surprised at how betrayed she feels. After the moments she thought they shared together, after the casual teasing and banter they had slipped into. He had meant something to her. And she had thought she meant something to him.

“Vera knows the way from here better than me—“ 

“Are you fucking serious, Joel? Will you just tell the truth? You wanted to get rid of me!”

“‘m sorry that I trust her more than I trust myself!” He snaps back at her, his voice getting low and steely.

“Bullshit! What are you so afraid of? That I’ll end up like Sam? I can take care of myself, you know!”

“How many close calls have we had?” Joels voice is dangerous now. Angry in a way that she’s only seen on him a time or two so far.

“We’re doing alright so far!” 

“And now you’ll be doing even better!”

“I’m not her, you know.” Ellie’s not even sure why she brings it up—if it’s meant to dig at him, or to genuinely try to assure him that she’ll be okay. John had only mentioned Sarah to her briefly—when she had asked about a picture of a young looking Joel next to a girl around Ellie’s age. John had just said she was Joel’s daughter. That she’d died a long time ago.

“What?” Joel says, looking taken a back, and Ellie’s not sure she wants to continue this discussion anymore—but it’s too late for that. 

“John told me about Sarah. And I—“

“Ellie, you are treading on some  mighty  thin ice here.” Joel’s eyes are dark. His voice low. Some part of him looks like he’s begging Ellie to drop it.

She doesn’t. “I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel. But I’ve lost people too.” 

Joel shakes his head. “You have no  idea what loss is.”

Ellie stands up. Balls her fists. Hurt and betrayal and anger pressing against her chest until she almost can’t breathe. “Everyone I have cared for has either died or left me. Everyone—fucking—“ She shoves Joel a little—feeling frustrated and tired and just sad. “—except for you. So don't tell me that I would be safer with someone else—because the truth is I'd just be more scared.”

Joel shakes his head. Shoves his own seat back and stands. “You're right. You're not my daughter, and I sure as hell ain't your dad. And we are going our separate ways.”

* * *

Joel leaves Ellie alone for a while. Athos tells her that he’s working out some sort of contract with Vera, and getting supplies for his own drive back to New York, which makes Ellie bite her lip and fight back tears.

Athos seems to understand that Ellie wants to be alone. He leads her to another library and tells her to look all she wants, and to shout if she needs anything. 

Ellie just curls into herself on the couch, and wonders why she let herself get so fucking attatched to Joel in the first place.

* * *

She must fall asleep at some point, because she wakes to Joel sitting next to her on the couch, hand on her arm.

“Ellie,” he says. “Time to go.”

Ellie says nothing. Just grips her backpack straps tightly and wills herself not to cry.

But Joel leads her out of the house. Helps her put her things in the truck. Says “Reckon our next stop will be in Colorado”.

Ellie’s never felt more relieved.


	5. five.

The next few days of their journey are uneventful, but Ellie finds that she doesn’t mind. She likes the long days of traveling with her feet on the dash and the cassette tape she stole from Bill playing in the background. Joel’s given into her habit of hoarding snacks—he lets her buy armfuls of junk food to keep in the center console every time they stop, giving her only a slightly amused sigh. 

She learns that Joel is from Texas, and that he plays guitar, and that he’s been with John for five years and they’ve been married for almost three of those years. She learns that Joel really likes football—he played in high school, his professional team of choice is the Cowboys, and his college team is the Longhorns. He sometimes listens to their games on the radio while they drive, and he tries to explain it to her more than once. Ellie never gets it, but talking about it seems to make him happy anyway.

She also learns a few more things about Sarah, and the life that Joel never really wants to talk about. She learns that Sarah had just graduated high school when she died. That she had a soccer scholarship. That she’d wanted to be a vet. She learns that Joel had been married, but his wife left when Sarah was a baby. That he had worked construction to try and support them.

She learns Joel’s favorite thing to talk about by far though is John—she can get him to talk for hours about John with a soft smile playing on his lips.

She pesters Joel about giving her a gun. He’s stubbornly against it—no matter how many times she tells him she should have one, that she knows how to shoot, that she could be helpful. He tells her that she’s a kid, she shouldn’t have to worry about shooting a gun. She tells him she’s not a kid. He tells her to just turn out the light and go to bed already.

* * *

They’re in a shitty hotel in Nebraska when Joel finally gives in—or rather, he’s forced to give in. He’s on the phone with John—a nightly occurrence that frequently makes Ellie gag—as he goes through his backpack, refolding shirts and taking stock of his ammo stores.

“We’re good. She’s—“ he says, and then cuts himself off, strange look on his face. He straightens up and then says, “She’s right here. Do you want to talk to her?”

Joel looks anxious, like he’s putting something to the test, and his future depends on the results.

There’s a beat.

Then Joel hands the phone to Ellie as something like relief passes over his face.

Ellie can feel that gnawing sensation that accompanies feeling left out of the loop, as she takes the phone from Joel.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ellie,” John says. His voice is soft, patient. Ellie hates that it kind of feels like coming home. “How are you?”

She finds that telling John about her day is easy—he’s a good listener, and makes even the most boring things she has to tell him seem interesting. She tells him about the lady at the gas station who seemed to think she was about three years old, and how her and Joel had seen a herd of buffalo—she’d never seen buffalo, and Joel said they were all domesticated now but it was cool anyway. She tells him about how they’d eaten at this fried chicken place that was really good, and how she’d never had fried chicken before, and how Joel had told her he made a mean fried chicken—which John vouched for. 

While she talked, she would catch Joel looking at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. There was some strange look on his face. Something like sadness, she thought.

Finally, she tells John that Joel won’t give her a gun. Joel sighs loudly, and starts protesting, reaching for the phone, as Ellie pulls away from him with a laugh.

“I  can shoot you know,” she protests, trying to still talk to John while holding the phone away from Joel.

“Just because you  can doesn’t mean you should,” Joel says exhasperatedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve said that like a hundred times—hey!” Joel snatches the phone from her with a self satisfied huff.

“Go take a shower and get ready for bed,” he tells her. 

She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him, but goes to do it anyway. 

* * *

Joel wakes her up before dawn the next morning—but he won’t tell her why. She gets ready in a haze of sleepiness, and dozes in the truck as they drive out of town. Eventually they stop next to an empty field.

“Hop out,” Joel says, nodding at her door as he kills the engine and opens his own door.

“What’re—“ Ellie yawns. “What’re we doin’ out here?”

Joel doesn’t answer. Instead he rummages in the back of the truck before pulling out a rifle and a few empty water bottles that had been long forgotten in the back seat. 

He hands Ellie the rifle. Walks out into the field a ways, and then sets up the water bottles on a log he found.

“Okay,” he says, wiping his hands on his jeans and returning to her. “You ever shot a rifle before?”

“Sorta,” Ellie offers truthfully, figuring it can’t hurt to be truthful—Joel’s gonna figure it out anyway. 

“Sorta?” Joel questions, eyeing her.

“Me ‘n a few of the kids at the base in New York would shoot BBs at rats,” she says, hoping he won’t suddenly change his mind based on this new information.

Joel sighs. Scrubs at his face. “Rats. Okay, well, same basic concept.” He takes up a position behind her, adjusting her grasp on the gun, and helping her aim. 

“Alright,” he says, when he’s satisfied she’s holding the gun correctly. “You’re gonna want to lean into the stock, ‘cause it’s gonna kick a hell of a lot more than any BB rifle.” 

Ellie nods, adjusts her weight. “Okay.”

“Alright, then go ahead and pull the bolt back,” Joel says, and when she struggles slightly, he helps her hold the gun. “Grab it right there. Just tug on it.”

The bolt springs free, and Joel gives her a soft, encouraging smile. “There you go.” He hands her a round, and she places it in the chamber before pushing the bolt back in place. 

“Okay, now this next part’s gonna be a lot like shootin’ a BB. Just—“ he adjusts her grasp on the gun again, and then steps back a little. “Just aim and fire.”

So Ellie does. Takes a deep, steadying breath, lines the gun up, and then pulls the trigger. 

The middle water bottle flies off the log. Ellie feels her heart do a little jump of pride. She glances back at Joel, who looks like he’s trying not to smile at her.

“Good,” he says. “Now if you were in any sort of danger, you’d want to get another round in there quick. ‘N you’d want every shot to count, okay?”

* * *

Ellie manages to coerce Joel into giving her shooting lessons twice a day—sometimes more. They always have a lesson in the morning, and there’s usually one at night too. When they have picnic lunches she can convince him to take an extra hour to shoot then, too. He teaches her on a rifle, a shotgun, and a pistol. A pistol is the easiest, she thinks, but Joel says they’re all important, and she’s just glad he’s letting her shoot at all.

* * *

They reach Wyoming almost a week into the trip. Joel tells her they’re close—another day of traveling, maybe. They stop in a place called Rock Springs for the night, and after they check into their hotel, Joel and Ellie wander down to a nearby river that Joel calls the Green River. It’s well forested, and pretty, and Joel sets up some cans for Ellie to shoot at with her pistol.

Ellie hasn’t been shooting for long—maybe ten minutes—when Joel stops her. 

“Shh,” he snaps, suddenly, reaching for her pistol and pointing it down to keep her from shooting.

Ellie listens. She can hear the running of the river, the swaying of the trees, the occasional chirp of a bird. “I don’t hear anything,” she tells him.

Joel glances over his shoulder, into the woods. “Think we should go,” he says finally, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

“We just got here!” She protests, but Joel hushes her again and takes the pistol.

“Ellie, c’mon.”

* * *

When they arrive at the hotel, Ellie goes to throw her door open, still slightly annoyed at the shortened shooting practice, when Joel stops her. He’s staring at an old, falling apart, red car in his rear view mirror.

“Ellie,” he says lowly. “I need you to go inside. Lock the doors. Don’t open them for anyone. Stay inside, and stay down.”

“Joel, I can shoot! I can take care of—“

“Ellie,” Joel says, and he tears his eyes away from the mirror to look at her. “Ellie, please.” 

He sounds so completely honest, so pleading that it takes Ellie aback. She nods at him dumbly, and relief passes over Joel’s face. 

“Go,” he says.

Ellie peels herself out of the truck seat, starting toward the motel room. She glances over her shoulder toward Joel, who is adjusting his gun in his waistband, and moving toward the red car.

He seemed scared—more scared than Ellie had ever seen Joel look. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever seen him look scared. But now—whoever was in that car had really shaken him.

She gets in the hotel room. Locks the door. After a moments consideration, she turns out the lights just for a good measure.

And then, unable to help herself, she peeks out the window.

She can’t see much in the dim light of the parking lot, but she can see Joel’s figure approach the car.

Two people get out.

They close in on Joel, reminding Ellie of vultures, circling in on something already dead.

Ellie can tell they’re talking, but she can’t hear what they’re saying, or read lips from this far. But the men don’t seem to be happy.

Neither does Joel.

One of the men throws a punch at Joel, Joel moves for his gun. The man behind him pulls his own gun.

“Joel,” Ellie finds herself hissing urgently, as if he can hear her.

Preoccupied with the man in front of him, Joel doesn’t notice that the man behind him has a gun.

The man shoots.

Joel crumples.

Ellie hears a shout, and it takes her a moment to realize it’s her own. Then she realizes the men are staring at the window. At her.

She ducks down. Counts out the minutes.

Finally, when she glances out the window again, the men are gone, along with their car.

Joel’s lifeless figure still lays crumpled in the parking lot. 

Ellie desperately stumbles to her feet, and out the door to him. 

There’s blood  everywhere .

It’s pooling beneath him—too much blood, Ellie didn’t even know people had that much blood—and the gaping hole in Joel’s side makes her wretch violently.

She fumbles with his wrist for a pulse for a moment before hearing him take a shallow, wet, rattling breath.

He’s still alive. He’s still alive. He hasn’t left her yet, she can save him, he’s going to be okay.

She pulls his phone out of his pocket, wipes the smeared blood off the picture of him and John, punches 9-1-1 into the phone.

She isn’t sure how many times the woman on the other end of the phone has asked what her emergency is before she finally hears her. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and says “Joel—he’s my—my da—Joel. They shot him, I don’t know what to do, I think—fuck—I think he’s dying, I don’t—“

“Where are you at?” The woman on the other end of the phone asks.

“Um, I don’t—I’m—I don’t know, I think it’s called Baymont or something, I don’t—“

Ellie gives a choked sob, presses the phone tightly to her ear with one hand, and grips Joel’s hand with her other. Wills him to stay. Not to abandon her.

“Someone’s on their way.” The woman says. She asks more questions, but Ellie doesn’t hear them. Can’t hear them as she presses her head to Joel’s chest and prays his heart will keep beating.

* * *

Everyone wants to talk to Ellie. Paramedics, cops, doctors, nurses, even a therapist.

Ellie doesn’t want to talk to any of them.

They all want to know how she knows Joel, who shot him, did she get a clear look at them?

Ellie doesn’t have any answers.

They let her stay in the waiting room—the cops tries to make her leave, at one point. Offered to take her to a group home—just for the night—which had made Ellie’s heart and lungs clench until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even see straight, made her sob, and resist the urge to curl in on herself.

They didn’t try to make her leave again after that.

Five hours later, Joel emerges from surgery. The doctor comes out to talk to her about how lucky Joel was, in a lot of technical terms Ellie doesn’t understand. She gets the gist though—Joel should be dead.

He’ll be awake in a day or two, they tell her. He won’t be able to leave the hospital for a week or more. Won’t be able to do much of anything for a month after that.

It makes Ellie’s heart twist painfully.

She sits by his bedside for most of the night, staring at his pale face, keeping track of the steady beeps of his heart monitor. Eventually though, nurses begin to filter into the room to do tests, and they all want to talk, and Ellie doesn’t want to talk, or watch them stick Joel with needles while he just lies there.

So she wanders away from Joel’s room, down white, too clean corridors, back into the waiting room. She tucks her knees under her chin, stares at the picture of a deer in snowy woods on the wall.

A man comes in. Sits a few seats away.

“You look like you’ve been through hell,” he says, conversationally, almost as if he’s just remarking on the weather.

Ellie lifts her head to glance at him.

He’s dressed simply—a red button up shirt and jeans. His forehead is creased with worry lines. 

He looks sincere.

“They must have been important to you,” the man remarks.

Ellie gives a vague noise. The man seems kind. He seems safe. He seems to want her to trust him.

She doesn’t.

“Everything happens for a reason, you know.” The man says. Ellie raises her eyes to meet his. “Like—here—I’ll tell you a story.”

He stands up, moves to sit by her. She shifts a little, feeling slightly uneasy, but not in any danger.

The man looks at her, studying her, and then starts his story. “You see, ten years ago, I met a man. A crazy man, who had nothing left to lose. That man? Well, he took  everything  from me.”

The man glances at his hands. Then at her, as if looking for something. “So I promised I would take everything from him—even if it took the rest of my life. So imagine my surprise, when the crazy man with nothing left to lose lands right in my lap—with a little girl in tow.”

Ellie’s heart clenches. The man was staring at her now, looking decidedly predatory. Ellie scrambles to her feet, keeping her eyes on him, stumbling backward.

The man smiled. “I will take everything from him .”

Ellie runs.

She leaves the hospital, takes off down the street, racing through alleys and backstreets until she finally collapses, exhausted, at the edges of the city.

She presses her head to her knees, fighting back tears, clenching her fists desperately.

When she lifts her head, there are four men in the alley, smiling like snakes about to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know sarah was 12 when she died but i decided to change that in this au just so joel could have had a little more time with her because i wanted to. also because i think it would help him grow more attached to ellie faster because he raised sarah through that age and sees little pieces of sarah in ellie.


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some heaviness in this chapter because of david’s general creepiness

Joel dreams of blood.

It’s in his mouth, on his hands, on his shirt, on Sarah—where is Sarah? He can’t find her, she’s not here, he lost her again, he can’t lose her again—and then there’s Ellie, hand in his, begging him to stay, and he will—couldn’t leave her if he wanted to, but Sarah, he needs Sarah, has to find Sarah, can’t go back to John without Sarah, needs to save his family, keep them together—and fuck, there’s so much blood, where is all the blood coming from? Is it from Sarah? Is she okay? Or is it John? Where’s John, why isn’t John here, he needs John—

There’s beeping, and Joel’s faintly aware that it’s in time with the pounding in his head and chest, and it’s so much, too early, John, shut your fucking alarm up already will you—

He tries to roll over, to shake John awake, to tell him to shut his alarm off, but pain, white hot and explosive engulfs him as soon as he moves. When the white on the edges of his vision disappears, he eases himself up, slowly, panting, tugging on the hem of a white hospital gown to reveal the twisted, ugly wound in his side. 

He was shot.

When was he shot? Why was he shot? Where is John? Where is Ellie—

Ellie. His drug-addled mind begins to catch up—David’s coming, and Ellie’s inside and he hopes to whatever God is out there that she listened to him and locked the door, and there’s a gunshot and a scream that’s not his own, and he catches the slightest glimpse of Ellie’s ponytail in the hotel window.

So where is she now?

With a grunt, Joel heaves himself into a sitting position, and with shaky hands moves to pull out his IV—and then a hand grabs his. The beeping in the room spikes with Joel’s heart as he wrenches his hand away, and the hands try to force him down, as he shoves back weakly. There’s too much talking all of a sudden—lots of “Mr. Miller”s and “lie down”s and other things Joel can’t focus on through the voice in his head that goes “Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie”. 

Eventually, Joel’s mind catches up, the hands are nurses hands, they don’t want him to leave, don’t want him to hurt himself, he needs to rest, needs to heal, he’s safe now.

“Ellie,” Joel rasps hoarsely, pressing against the nurse, pushing her away. “Need—“ he gasps, speaking’s too painful, fuck,  breathing  is too painful at this point. “Need Ellie—where’s—“

His voice breaks, throat too dry and scratchy to go on, panic pressed against his chest, gripping his lungs so tightly that he can’t breathe, and he swears he can see Ellie, bleeding out, alone and scared and he didn’t protect her.

“Ellie,” the nurse repeats slowly, a hand still on his chest to keep him from rising. “She’s the girl you were with?”

Joel nods, violently, desperately, and it makes his head spin and nausea rise up in the pit of his stomach, but the anxiety eases, letting him breathe. They know Ellie. They’ve seen her. She’s okay, probably just in the waiting room, they’ll let him see her and everything will be fine.

The nurse’s brow furrows. “She hasn’t been here in a while. She left a couple of days ago with a guy.”

Joel’s stomach twists with something almost as painful as the wound in his side. “John?” He mumbles, hoping, desperately, that she called John. That John picked her up. That she’s okay, that she’s with John, that she’s safe.

“I don’t—“ the nurse pauses. “I don’t know. Listen—Mr. Miller, you need to lay down, you’ve been through a lot—“

“Have to go,” Joel mutters, succeeding in ripping his IV out this time, and pushing past the nurse, despite the burning in his side.

“Mr. Miller, you can’t—“

Joel manages to swing himself out of bed, swaying as the room turns around him, but he closes his eyes, breathes steadily, and then rights himself. The nurse is still talking, desperately trying to convince him that he needs to stay, but Joel can’t hear her over the steady pounding in his head that goes “Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie”.

* * *

Ellie sees Joel and John in her dreams. They’re in a park, on a nice blanket that’s comfy, and warm, and smells like home. John’s made her favorite sandwich, just how she likes it, and he’s remembered her favorite kind of chips, and he’d packed extra cookies just because he knows she likes them. John’s dogs roll in the grass and bark occasionally, and John hands her a ball—tells her to go play fetch with them and tire them out. She runs to them—the grass soft under her bare feet, and when she glances back, Joel is smiling at her, and she feels like she belongs.

She wakes to a dull pounding in her head, dried blood smeared across her temple. She blinks as the last bits of warmth from her dream fade, and then she pushes herself up.

She’s in a small room. There are no windows, just four walls that were probably white at one point but are just a dirty, grimy brown now. 

Ellie tests the door.

It’s locked. 

She glances around for her backpack and then checks her pockets for her switchblade. They’re both gone. 

Fear claws it’s way up into her throat—she’s defenseless, and completely alone. No Joel, no John, no Marlene. Not even her switchblade or the gun she had taken from Joel and hid in her pack before the paramedics arrived. 

The doorknob turns. 

The man from the hospital enters. He’s holding a tray of food that makes Ellie’s stomach growl and twist with hunger.

He offers her a smile.

Ellie doesn’t smile back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks pleasantly. As if discussing the weather with a stranger on the street. As if he didn’t just knock her out and kidnap her. As if he didn’t shoot Joel.

“Super,” Ellie says dryly, taking a step back as he steps forward into the room. 

“Here,” the man says, setting the tray down and sliding it across the concrete floor toward her. “You should eat. I know you’re hungry—you’ve been out for a while.”

Ellie scoffs—unable to believe how absolutely fucking dense this guy seems. “You’re a fucking animal,” she says sharply, but after a beat, the growling in her stomach gets the better of her and she reaches for the tray.

“Awfully quick to judgement,” the man says, amused smile on his face. “I mean, especially considering who you’re traveling with. I mean, what if I told you that Joel has killed  hundreds  of my men.”

“I’m sure he had a reason,” Ellie says, trying to ignore the twist of anxiousness in her chest.

“Sure,” he says amenably. “I mean—to use a phrase you coined—he’s ‘a fucking animal’.”

Ellie shoves the tray back toward him, bitter anger filling her mouth. “You’re so full of shit,” she hisses, balling her fists at her sides.

He laughs softly, crouching down so he’s eye level with Ellie. “On the contrary. I’ve been quite—“ he pauses. “Quite honest with you. And now it’s your turn. You have to tell me your name—give me something—it’s the only way I’ll be able to convince them.”

“Convince who?” Ellie says, closing her fists tighter, swallowing down her anxiety. 

“Well, the family, of course.” He says, as if it’s as clear as day. “We protect each other. Take care of each other. And we can do the same for you, if you’ll just trust me.”

He reaches out, as if to grab her hand with his own. “I’m David,” he offers.

Ellie wants to flinch back. Wants to scramble to the far corner of the room—as far from him as she can get. 

She doesn’t.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Reaches for his hand.

And snaps his finger. She can feel the satisfying crunch, hear it, even, seconds before he makes a shocked noise of pain. She reaches for the keys hanging from his belt, and she’s so close, she can practically feel them—

Pain blossoms through her jaw. She releases her grasp on David, stumbling backwards as his punch connects with her face. She hisses in pain, but the betrayal and shock on his face makes the entire thing worth it.

“You stupid little girl,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “You are making it very difficult to keep you alive. What am I supposed to tell the others now?”

Ellie pants, bites down the urge to laugh as she spits out blood from biting her tongue. “Ellie,” she says finally, softly, through panted breaths.

“What?” David asks, confusion written in the lines on his face.

“Tell them that...” Ellie pauses, considers the weight of her next words briefly. “Ellie is the little girl that broke your  fucking  finger.”

* * *

Eventually they give Joel all his things and let him leave. He stumbles onto the street, squinting in the sunlight and trying to ignore the throbbing in his head and white in his vision.

He pauses, trying to think, trying to figure out where Ellie is, where she would go. He finally decided that it can’t hurt to start at the source.

He shuffles towards the hotel.

He feels like it takes hours for him to get there, but it’s maybe ten minutes. He’s panting, trying to breathe normally with the pain that’s all consuming. 

There’s two men near the truck. One of them is rummaging in Joel’s bag of weapons in the back. The other is leaning against the door casually, smoking a cigarette and arguing with the other man about something.

They’re David’s men. Which means they might know what happened to Ellie.

Joel limps forward, trying to stand upright and seem at least slightly intimidating.

The man with the cigarette notices. Stands up straight. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, reaching over to hit his buddy, who is still looking through the duffel bag.

Cigarette man reacts first—dropping his cigarette and throwing a punch at Joel. It’s sloppy and weak, and even half dead, Joel can deflect it easy. He bashes the man’s head against the side of the truck, sweeps his legs out from under him and drops him easily before pressing a foot to his neck. The other man is just a little too slow—Joel throws him against the truck easily, pressing his hand against his neck firmly, holding him in place. 

Then he presses his foot down against the man on the ground. Hard. 

He feels ribs snap, the man yelping and gasping in pain, fingers scrambling uselessly for a grip on the pavement. Convinced that the man isn’t going anywhere for the moment, he kicks him in the side of the head. Might as well concuss him and make sure he’s really not going anywhere.

With cigarette man taken care of, Joel turns his attention to the man he has pinned against the truck.

“The girl,” Joel says, hating how strained his voice sounds, even to his own ears. “Is she alive?”

“What girl man ? I dunno no girl—“

Joel rolls his eyes. Tightens his grip on the man’s neck. He doesn’t have time for this. Ellie doesn’t have time for this.

His eyes catch on the knife in the open duffel bag next to him.

He snatches it.

Digs it into the man’s knee.

The man screams. Pants as much as he can with Joel’s hand against his neck. 

“Focus right here,” Joel says, voice gravelly. “Right here,” he repeats, tapping the man’s chin up until he can meet his eyes. “Or I’ll pop your fucking knee off. Now. The girl?”

The man pants, and Joel thinks for a moment that he’s really going to have to go through with his threat. But then he clears his throat and says “With David. She’s his newest pet.”

Joel feels bile rise in his throat, feels his heart twist in his chest. “Where? ‘n it better be the same spot your buddy tells me.”

“Claymore’s Gun Shop. On the other end of town. He’s holed up there for now.” 

Joel nods. Acts as if he’s considering. 

Reaches for his pistol from the duffel bag.

Leaves a hole in the man’s head.

Cigarette man makes a breathless noise, gasping through broken ribs and a bloodied nose. “Fuck you man! He told you what you wanted, I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!”

Joel nods. Cocks his gun. “That’s alright. I believe him.”

* * *

Ellie tries to sleep, but the few moments of rest she gets are plagued by fitful dreams of Joel and a puddle of blood. Eventually, she ends up sitting next to the door, listening intently for the sounds of anyone or anything. It’s not until early in the morning that she hears voices. One of them is David’s—another is someone she’s never met.

“It’s not worth it,” David says finally. Sighs heavily. “A real shame. Can you imagine how much it would have hurt Joel to know his new daughter thinks he’s a monster? But life goes on. Slit her throat. Take care of the body.”

Fear seizes Ellie’s heart, and she stands frozen for half a second.

The door opens. Ellie throws herself at the man that walks through it.

Startled, he stumbles and drops his knife. Ellie snatches it, slicing his throat with it and then jamming it into the eye of the man behind him. She races out the door, into a hallway. David stands at one end, frozen in surprise, and Ellie takes off down the other end.

She dashes through a maze of rooms, up a rickety set of stairs, and into a library full of bookcases with old books, some antique guns, a few old armchairs, and a fireplace, where a fire crackles warmly.

It’s the kind of place Ellie would have liked, under different circumstances. 

Now, she can hear David’s footsteps as the stairs creak under his weight, and she scrambles around the corner of a bookcase right as he enters the room.

She can hear David’s heavy breathing as he enters the room. He chuckles slightly. She hears the click of a lock, and then the clink of something metal being set down.

“There’s nowhere to go, Ellie,” he says finally, tauntingly. “You want out? You’re gonna have to come get these keys.”

Ellie takes a deep breath. Steadies herself.She can do this. She can trick this fucker. 

She creeps forward, moving to the bookcase next to her. 

“You know, I wish you hadn’t killed those boys,” David says, moving forward, farther into the room. “They were good kids. Just trying to do their job. But you know, we’ll only get stronger. Joel ruined us too, once. And we came back from that just fine, didn’t we?”

He pauses. Ellie creeps farther forward. She’s close to him now. If he would just come a little closer...

David takes a step. Then another. “Really? Nothing?”

Ellie leaps out. Digs her knife into his shoulder. He gasps, hisses, and then throws her off. Ellie scrambles away, moving back into the maze of bookshelves.

David laughs, and Ellie could swear he sounds crazy. Like the villain in some Batman movie Riley drug her to forever ago. He moves to a display over the fireplace. Pulls a sword off it’s mantel with a sickening metal sound.

“You know, you keep surprising me.” He says, thoughtfully. “Give up now, and I’ll make it quick. I promise.”

Ellie lunges again. This time she knifes him in the stomach. He gasps, makes a pained noise. Ellie stumbles backwards, into some curtains, which swing into the fire. David swings at her, and she rolls out of the way before dashing back into the safety of the bookcases. 

David glances towards the curtains that have been consumed by the flames—already licking at the ceiling and peeling wallpaper away from the wall. While he’s distracted, Ellie slices at him again. 

She misses, and he kicks. 

A boot makes contact with her ribs, and she curls inward, pain exploding across her chest. She gasps, trying to think or move, or do anything. She finally manages to open her eyes—spotting her knife, inches away from her fingertips.

She reaches for it.

David kicks her again. 

She whines, presses her knees to her chest before rolling over and trying desperately to crawl toward her knife.

David kicks again.

She rolls on to her back, gasping in pain. 

David laughs. Crawls on top of her. Snatches her knife out of her grasp, and runs it along her cheek.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, smiling.

His sword lay on the ground next to her, forgotten. In desperation and fear, Ellie’s fingers scramble for it. She finds the hilt.

Slashes at him blindly. 

He screeches. She rolls out from under him. Snatching her knife back and slamming it into his skull. 

Again. And again. And again. And again.

Ellie thinks she’s made of fear and pain and the only thing that will cure that is destroying David. Wiping every last evidence of him from this earth, making sure he’s dead, dead, dead, dead, dead—

Someone grabs her. She screams—no, no, no, no, leave me alone, get off of me—slashes blindly at the figure, but it doesn’t let go. Just clings to her—bundles her up in his arms, presses his forehead against hers. 

“Shh, shh,” she hears, as a hand brushes at her hair gently. “‘s okay.”

There’s blood everywhere. It’s all over her, all over her hands, all over the floor. She catches a glimpse of a pulverized face, and her heart catches in her throat. “No—“ she mumbles, feeling tears well up in her eyes, and she can’t stop shaking, why can’t she stop shaking?

“It’s okay. It’s me. It’s just me. It’s okay.”

Ellie glances up. Find’s Joel’s face, an expression of relief and worry and horror and anger all there at once. “Joel?” She says, so softly, so disbelieving, that she’s not sure he hears it. A lump in her throat keeps her from breathing. All the tears from the past week spill over. She buries her face in Joel’s shoulder and sobs. “He tried to—“

“Oh baby girl,” he murmurs, pressing his face into the top of her head, stroking her hair gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay now.”


	7. seven.

Joel drives almost all night.

He’s desperate to get as far away from Rock Springs as possible, as far away from the remaining men David might have, and the inevitable questions that Joel’s shooting, escape from the hospital, and burning down of a building might raise. 

Most of all, he’s desperate to give Ellie some space.

She hasn’t really talked since he found her. She sobbed into his shoulder in the shop, and sniffled weakly as he led her to the truck, and gave him some vague reassurance that she wasn’t hurt—at least not physically. Now she had her face pressed to the window, staunchly avoiding Joel’s concerned glances. He pries only gently—with the occasional “how you doin’, baby girl”—but all he gets is a soft “fine”. 

Joel didn’t realize just how attached he had gotten to Ellie’s endless chatter and optimism until now. 

They stop in a town called Evanston. It’s quiet and sleepy, and Joel decides that stopping here to let Ellie try and sleep is better than soldiering on into Utah.

He touches Ellie’s arm gently, and she jolts, turning toward him sharply, as if she’s ready to attack. 

“Hey,” he murmurs gently. “Why don’t we get some food and rest?”

She softens a little, and nods. Joel smiles at her.

She doesn’t return it.

He clambers out of the truck and pulls his jacket out of his bag, shrugging it over his shoulders to hide the blood on his shirt. Then he swings his backpack on and grabs Ellie’s for her, before ushering her into the little brick bed and breakfast.

The woman at the front desk is kind, and soft, and smiles at both Joel and Ellie gently. Joel pays her and asks about where they can get some good take out, and then takes the key that has their room number written out in flowery font.

Once they’re in their room, Joel orders food, and then pulls one of his clean sweatshirts out of his bag, and a pair of Ellie’s pajama bottoms out of hers. He offers them to Ellie—she’s sitting on the bed, staring blankly across the room, still in her hoodie that’s covered in what he can only assume is a mixture of his blood and David’s. 

He kneels in front of her, presses the pajama’s into her hand, and smooths her hair down, tucking stray pieces behind her ears. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up?”

She swallows tightly and then nods at him, standing stiffly and then wandering into the bathroom.

In the meantime, Joel digs through his backpack for his phone charger, and plugs his phone in, anxiously waiting for it to turn on so he can call John.

Fuck—how long had it been? How long has John been waiting for him to call?

His phone turns on.

Immediately, voicemails and texts start coming through—all from John, and all with growing urgency.

He dials John.

It rings once before John picks up.

“Joel,” John says, and he sounds so breathless and relieved, and it tugs painfully at Joel’s heart. 

“Yeah, hey, I’m—I’m alright.” He says, willing his voice to sound less strained and tired—trying to reassure John that he’s fine, that everything’s okay.

“What happened? Joel—fuck—it’s been a fucking week, no one knew where you were at—“

“It’s okay—we’re okay, I promise.” Joel presses the phone tightly to his ear, as homesickness and an overwhelming love for John wells up in his throat until he can barely speak around it. 

John huffs a nervous breath. “I thought you were...” he trails off, but Joel knows. Has felt a similar knot of worry in his chest when John takes a little too long to call on a job. It’s too easy to end up dead in a ditch on a job. Too easy to leave behind those that love you with unanswered questions. 

“You’re not gettin’ rid of me that easy, Wick,” he says softly into the phone, joking, mostly, but neither of them laugh. 

The unanswered question hangs in the air—where has Joel been? Why take a week to call? Joel finds that he doesn’t want to answer—John’s worry on the phone is too apparent, and he doesn’t want to worry him more with gunshot wounds and hospital beds.

All he really wants to do is hug him. Reassure him that he’s alright. That he’s alive, and they’re together, and that that’s all that really matters anyway.

“David’s in Wyoming,” he says, instead. It’s not really an answer but it’s a start, at least. “Was in Wyoming, anyway.”

At John’s silence, Joel gives a rye laugh. “Thought I killed him ten fuckin’ years ago.”

David had been another hitman Joel had met. They worked for the same family. At least until Joel found out that David thought his position of power meant he could do whatever he wanted. To whoever he wanted. Grooming kids for vile shit that Joel couldn’t think about too hard. 

Joel had destroyed everything he’d built—killed all the men who worked for him, and all the people who hired him, knowing what he did and what he was. He thought he’d killed David too. 

He’d been wrong. Too sloppy, or naive, or whatever else.

He’d let David go. Let him hurt people again. Let him hurt Ellie.

Joel takes a deep breath, sits at the edge of the bed, and scrubs at his face. “He found us, somehow. Shot me. That’s—that’s why I didn’t call.”

“Joel,” John says finally, taking a steadying breath. “Come home.”

Joel’s heart catches in his throat. He’d like nothing more than to come home. But he owes it to Ellie—if she still wants to finish this, they’ll finish it. “Soon,” he says. “We’re almost done.”

John huffs something that sounds almost like a laugh. “Joel, please. You were out for a  week,  there’s no way you can make it to Salt Lake like that.”

“It’s fine,” Joel says. “I’m fine. It’s just a few more days.”

Joel hears the shower turn off.

“I’ve gotta go,” he tells John, gently. “I love you.”

* * *

Ellie’s plagued by nightmares. After the first two, Joel slides into her bed, permanently, and holds her through the rest. He smooths her hair down, presses soft kisses to the top of her head, whispers soft endearments and reassurances, and holds her tightly to his chest as she sobs. 

Eventually by almost seven in the morning, her brain seems to exhaust itself, and she manages a few hours of interrupted sleep with her face pressed into Joel’s shoulder.

She doesn’t speak to Joel when she finally wakes—just nodding mutely when he asks if she wants breakfast. She doesn’t speak as she gets ready for the day just a little too robotically. She doesn’t speak as they eat their breakfast, swirling her small piece of pancake around in her syrup and steadily avoiding Joel’s concerned glances.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.” He says finally, which gets her attention. She glances at him, clearly confused, so he clarifies.

“We could just...go back home. Just be done with this whole damn thing.”

Some part of Joel—the broken part, the still healing part, the part that will forever see a bleeding out Sarah in his arms—can’t believe he’s doing this. Suggesting...this. A family. But the bigger part of him—the part with a house and a husband and something that looks like normal life—knows that he can’t let Ellie go. Not to the Fireflies. Not to a life she doesn’t deserve. A life she doesn’t even know anything about.

Ellie swallows hard. Levels him with a hard stare. “After all we’ve been through—everything I’ve done...it can’t be for nothing.”

Joel longs to tell her. Wishes he could tell her that she already means far more to him then she could ever mean to the Fireflies. That if she comes home with him, she could have something resembling a normal life. A home. A family. School. Friends. That her life would have far more meaning there than in a shitty Firefly base.

But he doesn’t tell her.

“I know you mean well,” Ellie says with a sigh too heavy for someone that’s only fourteen years old. “But there’s no halfway with this. I have to finish it.”

Joel wishes the feeling in his chest didn’t feel so much like heartbreak. 

* * *

They arrive at the Firefly base. Ellie sits up straight in her seat and shuts off the old country music that has been playing since Pittsburgh.

Joel doesn’t like how final the sudden silence seems.

“This is it?” Ellie asks as Joel parks and turns off the truck.

“This is it,” Joel says. He feels tired. Exhausted, actually. A heaviness has settled into his bones, and he wants nothing more than to stay in this truck forever.

Prolong the inevitable.

Ellie glances at him. Then jumps out of the truck.

He follows.

* * *

They meet Marlene at the front gate. She offers Joel a handshake and a smile.

He doesn’t return either. 

The building she leads them into is grey and dark and foreboding and not the kind of place Ellie should be spending the rest of her life in. 

Marlene gets someone to show Ellie where she’ll be staying, and they’re gone before Joel can even protest. 

He tries not to think that maybe he won’t see her again.

Marlene takes Joel down twisted hallways to her office. It’s nice—with a couch and several desks and a window looking out at the city. 

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” she tells him, as she opens a desk drawer and pulls out a briefcase with cash and some coins in it.

“Ran into some trouble,” Joel says, hating that he’s struggling to speak around the lump in his throat.

“You handled it?” Marlene asks, sly, slightly smug smile on her face.

“I handled it,” Joel growls back.

“Well,” Marlene says conversationally, handing Joel a stack of cash with a few coins on top. “There’s the rest of your payment. As agreed upon. I’ll get someone to show you out—“

“I need to see Ellie,” Joel interrupts, feeling something like panic edge it’s way into his heart. 

Marlene regards him coolly. She snaps the briefcase shut. “Your job is done, Joel.”

“This ain’t about the job—I just need to see her.”

Marlene shakes her head. Waves a guard in as he passes by the door. “You can’t. It’s time to leave, Joel. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Joel eyes Marlene, her hand hovering over the gun on her desk. The guard in the doorway already has his gun pulled.

There’s no way he can down them both without getting shot. Especially not with the hole in his side that complains anytime he even moves. Not to mention that they’re in Firefly central. Even one gunshot will bring every fuckin’ soldier in this place down on him.

So he lets them think they’ve won.

“Okay,” he says softly. Marlene, relieved, moves her hand from her gun. Nods at the soldier, who motions for Joel to move with his gun.

The soldier leads him through hallways and rooms that are all too busy for Joel to make a move—until he pushes him through a door into the stairwell.

Joel climbs down the first flight of stairs, and then pauses. 

The guard grunts at him. Pushes his shoulder lightly with one hand. “Hey, what the fuck you doin’? Keep walkin’.”

Joel stays still. Waits.

“I said keep walkin’.” Snaps the guard, and presses his gun into Joel’s side.

Which tells Joel exactly which way he needs to throw his elbow. 

He throws his arm backwards and then upwards. The guard fires, but it’s too late, and the bullet lodges in the wall. Joel snatches the gun from his hand, and hits him with it once, twice. Then he forces the man into the wall, pressing the gun into his side. “Where can I find her?” He says, pressing down on the gun hard.

The guard heasitates.

“I ain’t got time for this,” growls Joel, and pulls the trigger.

The man slumps slightly in Joel’s grasp. Gives a soft noise of pain. “Top floor,” he breathes. “On the far side.”

Joel releases him. He slumps to his knees.

Joel lets a bullet fly through his head.

* * *

Joel winds through back corridors and long forgotten rooms to the top floor where the bunks are. Ellie’s sitting on one of the beds, holding a robot.

The toy she got for Sam.

“Hey kiddo,” he says, softly.

As if they have all the time in the world.

Ellie twists around to look at him. “Joel,” she breathes. “Marlene said you left.”

“I just...I had to say—“ Say what? What could he say to convince her to come home?

He crosses the room. Sits on the bed next to her.

“There’s some things I need to make sure you know,” Joel says finally, rubbing at his watch. “The Fireflies...well, they breed assassins. People like—“ he huffs a dry laugh. “Well, they breed people like me. ‘N their lifespan ain’t all that great but—“

He pauses. Glances at her before he looks back down at his hands.

“But if you want to do this...that’s your choice. You should just—you should know that John ‘n me’ll always have a place for you. You know, if you want it.”

Ellie turns the robot around in her hands. “You want—“ she pauses. Seems to stop herself from saying something. “You just want me to come live with you?”

Joel heasitates, even though every fiber of his being screams yes. “I want whatever’ll make you happy. But...yes. It’d be nice.” He looks at her. Smiles. “Normal.”

She smiles back. “Okay.”

* * *

They almost make it out.

Joel’s pushing a trash bin up against the gate so they can jump over it and run to the truck parked maybe a hundred feet away when he sees Marlene making her way across the parking lot.

She’s alone, and Joel knows what he has to do.

Ellie’s on top of the trash bin, about to climb over the fence, when she notices Marlene too. “Joel,” she says, and he nods.

“You still got your gun?” He asks.

She nods.

“I want you to run to the truck. Get in, stay low, and wait for me, okay?” 

Ellie pauses, and for a second he thinks she’s going to argue. But instead she nods, and then leaps over the fence.

“Should have escorted you out myself,” says Marlene, as she approaches.

Joel laughs. Pulls his gun from his waistband.

“What’d you tell her?” Marlene asks nodding at the spot where Ellie had been seconds before. “Did you tell her how evil we are? That we’re the true bad guys? That we’re nothing more than monsters?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

Marlene laughs. “Because you definitely didn’t tell her about all the horrible things you’ve done. About the monster you really are. You think you can keep her safe? You can’t even travel across the country without nearly getting her killed—what makes you think you can play pretend at being a family?”

Joel shoots. 

In the chest once. Marlene crumples. He shoves her over with his boot. 

“Please,” she breathes.

“You’d just come after her,” he says. 

The second shot is through her head.

* * *

It’s two in the morning when they pull into the driveway. The porch light is on, and Joel can see a faint light in the kitchen.

“Hey, baby girl,” Joel murmurs, brushing Ellie’s hair back gently. “We’re home.”

Ellie shifts, rubs sleep from her eyes, and yawns, which makes Joel smile. “Let’s get to bed,” he says.

John meets them at the porch, and Joel’s sure he’s never been happier to see anyone in his entire life. John wraps him in a hug, and Joel presses his face into the crook of John’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him and home. He presses a soft kiss to the junction of John’s neck and shoulder before reluctantly allowing John to pull away. 

“Hey Ellie,” John says. “How are you doing?” 

“‘m tired,” she says, with an over exaggerated yawn that makes John laugh.

“Here,” he says, offering a hand. “I’ll take your bag and help you get your bedroom set up.”

Ellie hands her bag to John and wanders into the house.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks.

John presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’m glad you’re both home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that’s it! there is gonna be a part 3 so. stay tuned for that 👀


End file.
